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So -
hack, hack…cough….sniff….
- I’ve got what is commonly known around our house as “The Crud”. Or “The Gunk”. (Both phrases coined, I believe, by my mother.) In other words, I’m sick.
Again.
And I not happy, Bob. Not happy.
*(Movie line alert!)*
I got sick a mere month ago. And I wrote this post about why I love getting sick. Well, let me just say, I’m not experiencing those happy, positive feelings this time around. I WANNA GET OFF THIS MERRY-GO-ROUND!
RIGHT NOW!
I’m really bummed because I was supposed to go fish-hunting with my pal Gabby tonight. (Also known as Jesse’s Girl.)
Yeah – Gabby/Abbie. Go ahead. Have a chuckle.
Fish-hunting is our newly-coined phrase for going to PetSmart and agonizing over the display of Betta fish for 27 minutes, finally purchasing The Fish, and then driving home with said fish in a plastic bowl on my lap.
(There’s been a lot of word coinage around here lately.)
On a slightly sadistic note, I’m not sure it’s really wise for my dear friend to get another fish. Her last one committed suicide. I kid you not – it jumped out of it’s bowl and apparently died a slow death on her carpet.
The End.
Happy story, no? Unfortunately, there will be no fish-hunting for me this day. My body’s immune system thought it best to fail me and shut down for a few days. So, my remaining options are the following:
1. Lay in bed, try to sleep, fail, listen to Josh Groban and stare at the wall.
or
2. Do something productive with my time and read a book.
Much as I love you, Josh, I’m gonna have to go with number 2.
